The Mexican Border and Other Conspiracies
by F0Z
Summary: Werewolves eating illegal aliens? Vast vampire conspiracies? Yes, welcome to the magical world of America, it's nothing like prissy old Europe. Features action, suspense, and lots and lots of monsters. All OCs. Rated T for Awesomeness.
1. Chapter 1: El Lobo

**Disclaimer:** JKR owns the universe.

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><p><strong>Chapter 1: <em>El Lobo <em>**

**July 2, 2015**

The pickup truck bumped and creaked along the winding dirt road, approaching the Mexican-American border. Its occupants huddled together in the overcrowded truck bed. Their expressions ranged from fearful to downright determined as they peered out into the cold, cloudy night, alert for any signs of border guards amongst the shadowy cacti. Finally, the truck ground to a halt on the side of the secluded road. The driver jumped out and spat a large wad of tobacco onto the dirt.

The man glared out from under the shadow of his black cowboy hat. He had dark, leathery skin from being out in the sun, a well-trimmed black moustache and four parallel scars that ran from below his left ear and disappeared beneath his buttoned-up collar. The man looked rough and borderline untrustworthy, but that was exactly why people trusted him to do this job.

"This is as far as I take you tonight," the man snarled in Spanish, "from here you will travel on foot with_ El Lobo_."

No one in the truck bed had noticed the other man get out of the passenger side of the truck, but there he stood. His snakeskin boots spread wide, strong, tattooed arms crossed his tank-topped chest, and, like his partner, a black cowboy hat shielded his face from the glare of the headlights. Even the bravest passengers shivered involuntarily, but they followed him willingly to the opening of a large forgotten sewer pipe hidden behind a pile of rocks. It is not as though they had any other choice.

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><p>After what felt like days, the entire group crawled out of the tunnel followed by their mysterious coyote, <em>El Lobo<em>. _El Lobo_ stood up, stretched his limbs, and took off his hat to gaze at the full moon. Suddenly, his entire body spasmed. The runaways watched in horror as his muscles rippled and grew, his hands ripped back to reveal sharp claws, and his snarling head twisted in agony, became long and triangular, and grew sharp canine teeth. He was now covered in shaggy black hair and standing on four gigantic paws. The refugees shrank back and became petrified, unable to run away from the monstrous wolf that now confronted them.

The werewolf let out a blood-curdling howl and soon other werewolves peeled out of the darkness and encircled the cowering refugees.

The shivering humans had given up hope. All of them, that is except for one. He stood now, a hooded man who had kept to himself for most of the journey, and planted himself between the humans and the werewolf who had once been their guide. Slowly, confidently, he pulled out a wand in his right hand and a silver dagger in his other while he made some quick calculations. The odds were not great. There were too many werewolves and too many helpless humans—there was no way he could protect them all. Not with only a short dagger and a wand that could only do minimal damage to a werewolf. He wished he could have smuggled in some wolfsbane for the others, but werewolves can smell the flower, even in their human form. He, at least, could survive and he would try to save as many of the others as well. It was not easy for one man alone to protect so many humans from the surrounding werewolves but he fought valiantly, taking on all five wolves at once.

More than anything else, it was the dagger that kept him alive. There were so many wolves, they could have easily taken a lone, unprepared wizard, but the silver of the weapon kept them at bay. If a wolf was too slow, and was caught by the point of the blade, the wound, however small, would boil and burn and so incapacitate the werewolf that it could only mope off into the wilderness, tail between its legs. It was purely the fear of the blade and the dishonor of the wound that kept most of the werewolves at a distance.

A piercing scream brought the man's attention to a werewolf that had been sneaking up behind the refugees. Quickly, he raised his wand. "_Stupefy!_" the wolf was hurtled back into the darkness, but other than that, the spell had little effect: the werewolf merely shook itself off and returned to his position in the circle.

The man glanced around at the onslaught of grinning teeth. He knew fleeing was impossible with so many humans, so he blasted apart the werewolves that had gathered in front of the tunnel and tried to herd the humans into the entrance where it would be easier to defend all of them.

He was an adept fighter but there were an awful lot of werewolves and they gradually overcame their fear of the silver blade due to their overpowering bloodlust. The werewolves were also used to hunting as a pack and were able to hold formations that forced the wizard onto his toes and kept him constantly distracted.

It was during a maneuver such as this when the man, being preoccupied with most of the wolves on one side, failed to notice the fifth bounding out of the darkness behind him. This would have been the end for our mysterious hero had it not been for an even more mysterious girl who leapt out of the tunnel and held the wolf at bay with well-executed shield charm.

Busy as he was, it was quite some time before the male realized he was no longer fighting alone, but rather alongside a fairly attractive young woman. He would never have guessed he would encounter a witch in such a location. Given the circumstances, however, he was neither surprised nor disappointed in any way and failed to waste any time expressing confusion.

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><p>Before long, the first rays of the sun burned their way into the sky, chasing away the night and, with it, the werewolves. The hero found himself surrounded by the expectant expressions of the handful of freshly established criminals.<p>

"Well, what are you waiting for?" he growled in his best Spanish, "You're safe now." Then he chuckled at the irony as he watched them stagger off into the brave new world.

Ten minutes later, the dark haired young man fumbled his car keys out of his pockets and opened the driver's side door of his old beat-up jeep wrangler, which was conveniently concealed near the tunnel's exit. Starting the engine, he jumped when he realized he was not alone. Seated comfortably to his right sat the witch he had met only hours before.

"I thought you were going to forget me here." She smirked in fluent Spanish.

"Maybe I was trying to." He replied.

"Well it's not very polite to leave a poor lady stranded in this barren wilderness. It's not like I have any where to go this side of the border. You should be ashamed of yourself."

He rolled his eyes. "Oh, if that's the case…"

Eventually, the red jeep pulled onto a deserted back road somewhere in the south of Arizona.

"I don't believe we've been introduced… my name's Violeta"

The wizard took a long look at his companion. The witch had short black hair, bright colored eyes, and a rather pale complexion for a native Mexican.

"You're not from Mexico are you?" he asked, venturing to switch to English.

The girl frowned at him. "I travel a lot." She followed his change in languages easily.

"You really like to travel in style I take it. Spend much time in the sewer?"

Violeta's frown deepened as she glanced at the stains on her clothes. "It's not like I have a passport, let's just say I like to experience these things first hand."

The pair sat in silence for a while before Violeta ventured at conversation again. "You still haven't told me your name…"

"Nope."

Violeta narrowed her eyes.

"Fine, my name is Manuel."

"Manuel… that's a nice name."

The car stopped.

Violeta looked out her window. The scenery had hardly changed. They were parked in front of a small plateau. As Violeta watched, the rocks in front of the car began to move. The rocks tumbled and rose like some sort of mineral hunk of a garage door and when it ground open, the jeep pulled in.

The rocks crushed back down behind them as Violeta got out of the vehicle and stepped in to what could have been a very ordinary muggle garage. Or what might have been had it not been for the obvious facts that the usual drywall had been replaced by the dank stone walls of a cave, the lawn equipment with shelves of potion ingredients and the broken bicycles with bent broomsticks.

The house matched the garage, bearing heavy resemblance to the cave it was. The rough walls and low ceiling absorbed most of the light that streamed from the enchanted windows. The furnishings, though dark, were springy and inviting and Violeta could not resist sprawling out on the couch's soft cushions. It had been a long night and despite the burning questions that littered the room, the two needed rest so Manuel left Violeta to sleep on the couch and climbed the stairs to his own room.


	2. Chapter 2: Orange Juice

**Disclaimer:** JKR owns.

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><p><strong>Chapter 2: Orange Juice<strong>

_A boy sat alone on a porch in the middle of a suburb with a deck of cards. Holding the deck behind his back, he flicked individual cards into the air where they appeared hover, spinning and shuffling before the boy's intense stare. The boy held his hand out in front of himself and deftly caught 52 cards in a neat stack. He paused, hands clasped together before throwing his arms wide. The cards slithered about in the space between his palms as though they were a living snake. He brought his hands together again and when he pulled them apart this time, he was juggling them, the way one might juggle 52 balls. When he was bored of this, the boy placed the deck neatly on the floor in front of his crossed legs. He took two cards out at a time and quickly but carefully leaned them against each other. He began a second row, then a third; the boy felt as though this might be his biggest house of cards yet. Without warning, there was a bang and the house exploded. The boy ducked as cards shot dangerously in every direction. _

_When the boy it deemed it safe enough, he looked up and realized he was no longer alone. Across from the smoldering pile of cards stood a tall, dark man who looked down at the boy with a strange, gloomy expression. The boy recognized the man but did not remember his name or why he knew him. The man raised his fist and knocked three times on the door. The boy sniffed and smelled bacon._

_"That's odd." He thought. "Lupe won't be home until later tonight."_

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><p><strong>July 3, 2015<strong>

Manuel opened his eyes and squinted at the clock. Just past noon. Then he remembered Violeta, "That crazy witch—what was I _thinking_."

He pulled on a crumpled pair of jeans, quickly adjusted his nose in the mirror, and slid down the stairs.

"Hey sleepyhead," she said, banging around in his kitchen as though they had not just met last night, "want some bacon?"

"Wha— er, no thanks, I'm vegetarian."

"Some orange juice then—pancakes are almost ready."

The wizard relaxed after a sip of juice. "Who are you?"

She laughed, her smile sparkling in the midday sunlight. "Violeta—don't you remember?"

"A Spanish name, but you're not from Mexico."

"Have some more orange juice. Mexico isn't the only Spanish speaking country in the world you know. Actually my real name is Violet but I like to blend in."

"Your confusing me, it's too early in the morning for this."

"Ha! We'll keep it at Violeta then. Anyway, I don't believe you've told me much about yourself, Manuel."

"Right," he squinted into his glass, "well, I've been on my own for a while now, but my parents were working for this group and I sort of took over that which is how I got partnered with Lupe which is how I found out about the werewolves which is how I met you, which is why I'm sitting at my own table eating pancakes made by some _chica _I barely know."

"This Lupe—how did he find out about the werewolves?"

"Well, I suppose they would have told him, I mean all werewolves know each other, even if they don't really get along."

"Wait—he's a werewolf too?"

"Yeah, you know you can ask him yourself—he should be home in a couple hours, always takes him a bit after the full moon."

"He—he lives here?"

"Of course."

"Of course." She repeated, under her breath. She hid her surprise and turned around bearing another fresh plate of pancakes. She could handle one more werewolf.

When Lupe returned late that night, he was very tired and wore nothing except for a thick warm cloak. There was only time for a quick introduction before he wandered upstairs and passed out in his room.

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><p>Edison Brown switched off the late night comedy show he had been watching. It took some work to get his aching old bones off the couch, but he managed in the end. He shuffled to the sink and swallowed a couple pills with a glass of water. He was about to turn off the lights and head up to his bedroom when he realized it was Thursday. That meant he would have to take the garbage to the end of the driveway so it could be collected in the morning. Tossing a few stray wrappers into the kitchen wastebasket, he heaved the full bag onto his shoulder and made his way carefully outside. His driveway was not particularly long, but it seemed to take longer to wheel the garbage can to the end every time. <em>I must be getting old<em>, he thought as he slid the plastic container into place by the side of the road.

Slowly he turned to make his way back to the house, but stopped, transfixed. There was someone standing in the shadows by the garage. He had not seen anyone there before. He realized too late that he had forgotten to switch on the outside lights when he took the garbage out.

"Er, hello… can I help you sir?" he called out to the figure.

The figure did not answer, nor did it move. Edison began to shuffle cautiously forward. The closer he got to the mysterious man, the more his spine began to tingle. He noticed that his palms were drenched in sweat. He wondered if he should call out for help. He wondered if anyone would hear.

Suddenly, his knee failed him. He found himself lying face up on the pavement. He thought he might have hit his head. The figure swam into view in the edge of his blurred vision. He now realized it was a girl, with spiky hair. Those darned teenager fashions always got him confused. The girl knelt beside his head and lifted him into a sitting position. He watched her open her mouth. She bit into his neck. He screamed. She drank deeply of the old man's blood; she had been deprived of human blood for too long.

A bat fluttered across the night sky. The next morning the garbage man would find Edison's body by the side of the road where he had tripped. The official cause of death would be listed as a blow to the head. No one would notice the two small spider bite-like incisions on his neck.


	3. Chapter 3: Men and Witches

Disclaimer: JKR

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><p><strong>Chapter 3: Men and Witches<strong>

**May 8, 2001**

A boy stood in a clammy basement. In his right hand, he held a disc that was lined with sharp teeth around the brim. The disc snarled and the boy flung it across the room. The disc danced around the room's perimeter, deftly avoiding the cluttered furniture. The boy produced a wand and aimed a couple haphazardly cast spells at the toy. "_Stupefy_! _Descendo_! _Confringo_! _Impedimenta_! _Incendio_!" The smoldering pile landed at his feet. He put it out with a hasty "_Aguamenti_!"

The boy bent down to pick it up, but stopped short. Something was not right. Sure enough, an alarm enchantment pierced through the basement a mere second later. The boy did not waste a second. The vanishing cabinet was located the floor above. The boy flew up the stairs, wand out, wild eyed. Five steps from the top, the boy found his path blocked. A stranger. He raised his wand.

"_Congfring—_!"

"_Protego_," responded a calm voice.

The boy stopped; stared. So did the intruder. The intruder lowered his wand. His bushy eyebrows converged above his narrow green eyes. He ran a hand through his unkempt hair.

"How old are you?" The boy asked.

The intruder looked surprised. "What?"

"You have a beard." The boy Insisted. "How old are you?"

The intruder chuckled, "Not old enough, apparently. They didn't tell me there'd be kids."

"Kids?"

"Look, you'd better get outta here, kid."

The boy rolled his eyes. "That's what I was _doing_ until you showed up and screwed it all."

The intruder stepped to the side so the other could pass him. They were the same height. The boy walked to the cabinet and pulled the door open. Before he could step inside, the trespasser spoke.

"How old are _you_?" he asked.

The boy turned, "Not old enough." He crawled in and shut the door behind him. The intruder waited a few seconds and then opened the door. Empty. He pointed his wand and whispered an incantation. The cabinet disappeared, melting into the wall behind it.

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><p><strong>July 4, 2015<strong>

The next day Manuel awoke much earlier. This time it was not bacon, but a werewolf that awoke him. Lupe stood over him holding a squirt gun. Manuel wiped the water off his face and kicked the intruder off his bed.

"Wha—?" he groaned,

"Sorry to wake you," the werewolf said, "but we need to talk, your girlfriend—"

Manuel sniffed. "She's not my girlfriend."

Lupe raised an eyebrow. "Why exactly did you bring her here again?"

"She's not my girlfriend." He insisted.

"Uh-huh. Well, anyway, the point is—she's not as young as you seem to think. I can smell her, she smells… weird. I can't smell as good in my human form, but I can tell this girl's seen a lot. Like maybe even centuries."

Manuel smoothed a crease in his sheets. "Right, she travels a lot, okay? She just needs a place to stay for a bit. Let me get dressed, we can talk later."

Sighing, Lupe stood up. "Look, just be careful, okay? Don't let her mess this up."

Manuel rolled his eyes. It was early in the morning and soon after a full moon. Obviously, Lupe was not thinking straight. Obviously, he was not himself. Manuel did not have time for this. "I just… trust her, you know? You should have seen her the other night, that girl can fight, and we're gunna need that."

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><p>A red-tailed hawk alighted on a telephone pole somewhere in southeastern Colorado. It remained alert, its eyes searching both land and sky. Soon the hawk spotted a movement on the derelict road below. It took off and circled once before folding its wings. A smooth dive, the hawk returned victorious to its pole. But the pole was already taken. The hawk landed a short distance away from the eagle that had invaded its perch. The hawk cocked its head to the side, the mouse in its beak dangled helplessly. The eagle met the hawk's eyes and nodded, a quick jerk of its head. Crouching forward, the eagle beat its wings rapidly; it pushed off into the sky and circled until the hawk followed.<p>

Soon, the eagle vanished into a mountain. Upon entering, the hawk was barely surprised to find itself, not in a cave, but a cozy, sparsely furnished room. Seated in front of a glowing fireplace was an old man.

"Manuel," the man said, to the hawk, "it is nice to see you again, I must say the darker hair looks great on you."

The man who was previously a hawk sat in a chair across for the older man. He was Manuel, but his appearance had changed drastically. Instead of the young man who appeared to be of Mexican descent, there stood a taller, green-eyed version of Manuel.

Manuel squinted his eyes and his hair slowly changed back to his natural blonde. Manuel was not very good at most magical arts, but he had a gift for transfiguration. Being a metamorphmagus, that came naturally; it had not been difficult for the old man to teach him how to become an animagus.

The younger man sunk into a chair next to the old man. "You're actually remembering to use my alias this time."

A soft chuckle escaped from the older man's lips. "Yes, I've been working on that, last time…"

"Almost blew the whole mission!"

"It was quite the disaster." He agreed, pursing his lips.

Presently, the conversation drifted toward matters of more importance.

"So you were successful then." The old man's voice was low and hushed now.

The younger man's eyes flickered to his boots. "Successful in that I survived. Those wolves will be back, and I fear next month they'll bring their friends. The good news is I met a witch at the border; she saved my life back there. With her, we stand a chance, I just need to convince her to fight for us. That she _wants_ to fight."

The old man leaned back in his chair. "She's from Mexico?"

"No… she didn't say."

"But you trust her?"

"She saved my life, if she had wanted me dead she would have just let me die. Besides," he said, his eyes narrowing mischievously, "there are other ways to get a witch to do what I want."


	4. Chapter 4: History

D:JKR

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><p><strong>Chapter 4: History<strong>

**May 8, 2001, North Dakota**

"Nothing, sir." Lupe said, his hairy wrist snapped in a blunt salute. "I've searched every room on the floor."

The chief snarled and turned his back so that he faced the broken living room window. The window looked down over the valley from one of the tallest mountains in the range. A few broken pine trees and the smoldering remains of a woodshed were the only signs that the wolves had even been there. The chief clasped his crooked hands behind his back. A soft breeze ruffled his mangy hair.

"It's almost dark," the chief growled, eyeing the dissipating light over the horizon. "The transformation is imminent, make sure you are ready when the time comes, I want no evidence left without tampering."

Lupe bowed out of the room, heading towards the back entrance. His green eyes glanced at the wall where the vanishing cabinet once rested; it was indistinguishable from the rest of the house. At the door, Lupe placed a dog treat on the floor right inside, just in case. He stepped over the threshold and breathed in the cool dusk air. He waited on the lawn, shuffling, eyes on the horizon where the moon was set to rise. In the final minutes, he took off his coat and jeans and set them on a log for the morning. He bounced on the balls of his feet and pulled at his scraggly goatee. A harsh scream dissolved into a howl. Answering calls rose up around the yard. Lupe was no longer, there were only emotions, overpowering impulses, a dog treat—appetizer for the night.

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><p><strong>July 4, 2015, Colorado<strong>

The old man returned with a cup of tea for each of them. Manuel sipped his cautiously and observed his surroundings. "Bit dark, isn't it?" He asked, "—for your tastes."

"Well, yes, I suppose," the old man twittered, "but these are dark times, after all, and one must make such adjustments to stay isolated."

"What do you think they'll do next?" Manuel asked, "I mean they'll know we're coming for them this time."

The old man set his teacup down on the rough wood coffee table. He leaned back and shut his eyes. "Yes, I've been thinking about that, I have some old friends, well, acquaintances, up in Portland and I'm sure they'd be willing to help if you plead your case. For a small fee, that is."

"Oh?" Manuel rested his teacup on a coaster.

"Yes, I'll go and find the address, it should be around here somewhere," The old man stood and shuffled towards a back room of the cave where Manuel could make out loose piles of paper illuminated by a single bare bulb.

After a few moments, Manuel stood and made to help the man, but passed a mirror on the way and could not help but notice his reflection. The green eyes—they brought back so many memories. He felt them itch and a single tear rolled down his cheek. He concentrated and the color shifted to a lighter blue. That would be safer, he thought, he could not afford to lose his composure for the shortest second. He added a little brown to his hair and adjusted his jaw line for good measure. Squaring his shoulders, he ducked into the little back room.

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><p><strong>Arizona<strong>

The vampire stood in the shadow of a deadened streetlight, waiting. The street, a dark and deserted suburban neighborhood, stretched infinitely in both directions, lit only by the periodic gloom of the flickering lights. A car door slammed some distance down the street. The vampire's ears perked, but a barking dog drowned out all other signs of life. Still, the vampire waited. She was patient, but if the situation required it, a dog was not entirely out of the question. Of course, human blood was considerably sweeter and more sustaining.

A light blinked on in an upstairs window across the street. The vampire drew closer to the burnt streetlight, her long, cold fingers grasping its slender pole. A face appeared in the window. A child. _Fool_, the vampire thought, but the light clicked off just as soon as it had alit. Location compromised, the bat fluttered off in search of fresh hunting grounds.

She had no sooner landed in a new neighborhood than the vampire found she was no longer alone.

"Bleudven, I should have known—how did you find me?" She asked the shadow lurking behind a fence.

The shadow stepped into the street. He was tall, slender, and appeared to be wearing a suit. He had a very gaunt face of which she could make out very little. He spoke, his voice thin and papery. "Quite easily, as a matter of fact, Aramancella, I believe the muggles call it sonar or, perhaps, echolocation?"

"Humorous." The female vampire said, her face as stony and cold as ever.

"I do believe so." The male affirmed. "Actually, I had not hoped to practice my routine, but merely to have a word with you—"

"A word? Well, in that case," Aramancella said, "I'll just be off. I was hunting you know, it was going rather—"

"—in private." Bleudven finished.

The female glanced up and down the deserted street and rolled her eyes. "If you insist."

Cautiously, she placed her arm in the elbow he offered her, and with a sickening twist, the two vampires vanished.


End file.
